Tattoo... bless you!

Another year, another tattoo festival, another chance for news anchors to smugly open a story with “not just for bikers and sailors” just to give me the shits.

The subject of tattoos will still divide a room even today; only a few people remain who feel physically threatened just from the shear presence of a tattooed stranger. But as the moral pendulum swings around it gives us all an opportunity to do something stupid we can regret later in life.

I like tattoos, but I have always believed that because tattoos are so permanent, that they should represent something that means a lot to the bearer. For instance, I have a tattoo of my family crest on the left hand side of my chest. It is not because I am massively into heraldry or I value my family’s history, it is because I value my family.

My family is important to me and this way I get to keep them close wherever I go. It reminds me whenever I look into a mirror of the support they give for any goal I wish to undertake.

And it reminds me to call home every now and again.

Sooky it is, but it is a perfect example of the unwavering and unconditional dedication that you demonstrate by signing with a permanent ink in a drawn up contract on your skin. I’m sure the roses you have tramp stamped across your back strikes as a metaphor for life that there are pricks along the way but by persevering you will find beauty in the end. That star sign on your foot I’m sure is to remind you that sometimes life is not always in your control – no matter how you plan. That Maori tribal symbol around your arm is your unspoken commitment in the perseverance of ancient culture in the face of an ever increasing homogeneous society.

... No?

A close friend of mine has a tattoo of a slug getting “mounted” by a wasp on his shoulder. You can claim that it symbolises that no matter who you are or how you travel, there is someone bigger and meaner who will fuck you given the chance. I personally think that it is more likely that he chose it as a symbol for his undying support of alcoholism when we were teenagers and he thought it was hilarious.

So even then, in an obscure kind of way, it represents his spontaneity and fun loving demeanour in the cyclone of craziness that follows him wherever he goes. Do I respect him? Yes. Does the tattoo represent a time when I was finding my place in the world? Yes. Would I get the same tattoo? Shit no.

Goal Update!

Finished research and outline last week. I am now the proud owner of the start of my first draft! Two scenes down so far, and many more to go.

February has arrived, and the following few months will be as busy as how January ended, so I need to pump out as much as I can now.

There will be no excuses.

Merry New Year to you all!

My dad got me out of the habit of asking people if they had a good Christmas. Now I wish them a happy “New Year” or ask them about their "holiday season", which is as generic as it comes. It was a good idea on three fronts; the obvious cultural sensitivity, Y fronts, and what would become my loathing of Christmas. I’m not saying that we should stop celebrating Christmas for fear of offending people or endorsing the “Political Correctness Police”. Far from it. I am just saying if you want to avoid that uncomfortable silence that follows when you have made a knob out of yourself in front of someone who does not celebrate Christmas, it is probably best.

But now  tis the season to make resolutions, and by late February, that becomes the season to break resolutions. Fa la la la laaaa, la laa laaa laaaa. I find resolutions a difficult subject. I love the concept that a fresh Gregorian year is a head of us and it is a time to admit our shortcomings and try to fix something in our lives that we are not too happy, or proud of. Just remember when we fail to meet them; it is not all that bad.

I prefer to call them goals. It is a little homebrand “same shit, different label” but goals are a little more flexible, can be re-evaluated along the journey, and therefore not the end of the world if you fall short.

These are my goals for 2011

1. Write a first draft of a novel
I love to write, but I only share it with a few select people. I have been writing since 2004 and I have attempted a novel in the past, but I have never finished one. I generally write short stories, sketches, radio plays, and just really odd stuff. This will be the year I turn down that self critic voice.

2. Produce either a clip, short film, or a sketch with The Chess Hammer.
The Chess Hammer is a bunch of my mates and I who just have a great time and talk shit together. We have been talking about doing stuff for a while, and this year we are finally in a position to do something. Let's stop talking and start filming!

3. Climb a real rock
It is always good to have a physical goal. Last year I ran a 54km ultra marathon, but this year I started doing indoor rock climbing, and it is pretty sweet. I do have a problem sticking to just one route because I am colour blind and have trouble differentiating between some of the rocks. I asked some people at the climbing centre what I could do about it and they climb some real rocks. Sounds like a good plan to me.

I have added a few new pages so that I can track how each goal is coming along. Drop us a comment and let me know what you will be striving for in 2011.
 
Good luck for the coming year!
 
Rusty

Get down with no sickness

I do not get sick very often. Every year I see people around me get sick; every year I see people around me enjoy their sick leave while I get stuck with just four weeks annual leave. In the three and a half years I have worked for my current employer, I have only taken 12 hours sick leave; eight of those 12 was maybe a “sickie”, but if anyone asks it was a “mental health day”. The other four was a headache from the stress of not giving a crap.

These might be dangerous words for a blog, but being only limited to annual leave, and in reference to a previous post “I work better when away”, my company is better for it (I hope they remember that in my next performance review). I still have my wisdom teeth; maybe I can take a week or two off so I can get them out... I wonder if I can push it out to two...

I saw on a documentary once – actually it was one of those American documentaries where they show the same thing over and over after every ad break, so technically I saw it several times – that having a high immune system makes me more attractive at a genetic level. But tell that to the bald spot forming! It is not exactly something you can use as your opening line at a pub, “Hey baby, I never have to buy tissues.”

There was a time back in my uni when I really was sick. It was a Saturday after a really big Friday night, and I thought I just had a hangover, a really bad hangover. Naturally I did not move from the flat.

My flat in uni had two bedrooms, probably still does, with a combined laundry/bathroom. As soon as you walked into the laundry/bathroom there was a laundry sink on your left, a washing machine, and then coming out perpendicular to the wall was a privacy wall with the toilet behind it facing the bathtub and shower at the end of the room. Across from the toilet on the opposite wall there was a sink and a medicine cupboard. It was not fancy, but I digress.

I was feeling the night all day, and I only had a few things to eat as I could not get myself to the supermarket. For dinner I had a tin of pea and ham soup, I tried to eat it, but it felt like knives on the way down. I then started to feel a turning in my stomach.

I stood up. I was dizzy and I could feel a creeping sensation getting higher and higher, my lips started to press and my saliva started to build; I was going to spew.

I made my way as quickly as I could into the bathroom. I pushed open the door, I jumped the dirty clothes, but I could feel it rise faster, my cheeks started to fill and I started to burst at the seams.

I would not make it; the closest thing will have to do...

It was a mess.

Those who have vomited pea and ham soup would know that the first choice receptacle is not the bathroom sink – in hind sight I should have chewed more – so naturally the sink blocked up as I tried to wash it away. So I started moving vomit from the sink into a bucket, and moving the vomit in the bucket, and the vomit still inside of me, into the toilet. It took a long time.

I was pale on Sunday, had another couple of spews. By Monday I was fine and I went to Uni. Would I have taken Monday off if I was working? I would like to think so, but I probably would have gone; I do have my reputation to think about after all.

But you do not, so stay home. Enjoy your sick leave, embrace it, embrace other people with it (they will thank you later), just do not waste it on Opera.

Investing in my time

I bought Guitar Hero: Warriors of Rock two weeks ago and I have been showcasing my fret techniques since. I am by no means a fretxpert, but I do think occasionally that the amount of time that I have invested in Guitar Hero over the years; I could have learnt how to play a real instrument.

During school I learnt to play the clarinet. At first glance, it was an obscure choice for a 10 year old boy to pick, particularly since he never heard of one before. It did pay off in the long run; I was the only male woodwind student in my home town. It was me and the chicks for six years.

In fact I landed my first high school girlfriend after a music camp. Somehow I managed to convince a gorgeous year 10 flute player (I was in year 9 at the time... giggady) to put up with my awkwardness for a month. For the time I was batting well above my average, which was the general consensus at school, so it was never going to work out; a good result for Team Nerd.

Music and chicks do go hand in hand; ask anybody who is in a band. However nobody is going to date the dude that can play expert level in Guitar Hero. I know that Dragon Force song from Guitar Hero 2 was hard, but nobody cares.

The two gaming “instruments” that are even remotely close to real instruments are drums and vocals. For example, when playing the drums the neighbours will still tell you to shut up when you get into the grove and the vocalist will think that they are the most import person on Earth; just like real life! For there to be any real life benefit however, all difficulty must be set to “hard” or above.

The guitars, although not being anything close to the real thing, do have real life similarities. The bass, for example, is still so boring it is amazing that anyone picks it and people who choose the guitar think they are awesome no matter how shit they play. No restriction on difficulty level for either.

Even though I have practised more songs with fake instruments than I ever did playing clarinet, Guitar Hero will still be a staple part of my gaming life. Sometimes it is more important to have fun than to focus on what is more beneficial for real life. Real life will be there when you get back.